


WHEN THE WIND STANDS FAIR

by Autopilot93



Series: Every Day in a Million Days [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Clara Oswald/River Song conflict, Episode Fix-It: s04e08 Silence in the Library, F/M, Fluff, Mention of Madame Vastra, Mention of Rose Tyler, Pre-Episode: 2015 Xmas The Husbands of River Song, Promises, Regeneration, Telepathy, Time Lords and Ladies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:49:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autopilot93/pseuds/Autopilot93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following Danny Pink's death, the Doctor acts to bring his rescue about with the help of his friend, his old girl, and a fickle thing called luck.<br/>While Pretty Boy stands idle in defeat, grumpy old Twelve springs into action, and he won't give up until he rescues the lady fair.<br/>Because now and then, every once in a very long while, every day in a million days, when the wind stands fair, and the Doctor comes to call... everybody lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WHEN THE WIND STANDS FAIR

The loudspeaker droned on with the same announcement as it had been repeating for the last half hour. “Please be patient. Only three can teleport at a time. Do not state your intended destination until...”

The Doctor tuned it out. He was back in the Library and the memories were louder than the tumult around him. Part of him wished he could’ve done the unthinkable and swooped in to save his wife before she’d sacrificed herself. That one life was worth more to him than the 4,022 she’d brought back into being. Only her exhortation that he not change their personal history—“Not one line” —had held him back so long. If he altered their timelines it could risk their entire future/past life together. In the end, he knew he couldn’t bear to part with one memory and he’d deemed the risk too great. That had been the status quo, through their centuries together and the centuries since he’d taken her to the Singing Towers for his final goodbye.

Eventually, in his loneliness he’d found a way to justify his interference. His plan bent the rule while leaving it essentially intact. A technicality that he would embrace with an enthusiasm that was as fierce as his love for her. It wasn’t without risk though, and while he wouldn’t hesitate to hazard himself, the danger to his wife was another matter. His jaw clenched to batten down the wisp of doubt, hoping he could smother it before it kindled to flame.

An ill-timed chortle to his right had him whipping around to glower at the offender. He was a selfish old man, selfish enough to resent all of the happy people milling around him. Every smile and laugh seemed to mock his loss. His glare had more than one of the black-clad strangers scrambling out of his path, especially the malefactor in question. It would teach the man not to be so cheery at a tomb.  

The way people began to avoid him made his passage through easier which was for the best. He had somewhere to be and he was cutting it fine. Crossing his personal timeline was never a very good idea. Luckily for him, the TARDIS was in on the job. He’d trusted her to put him in the right place and time to succeed, but the old girl had to make it tight to minimize the risks.

The timing in this was critical. Too early and pretty boy would become aware of his proximity, and it was always dangerous to run into yourself, but today... well, today he wasn’t willing to risk it. If he were too late then all was lost and he would ruin his chances of ever rescuing his wife.

“Doctor,” Clara cajoled, bouncing along in his wake like an irritated shadow, which was doubly ironic because of the deadly shadows infesting this place. “What are we doing here? What’s going on? Why won’t you tell me?”

“Shush,” he snapped, glowering at her. “I told you not to call me that. I’m John Smith.” He tapped at the badge he was wearing. The name, **Smith** , overlay a big red plus sign. It marked him as a medical functionary from one of the ships Mr. Lux had summoned to carry everyone off.

Clara rolled her eyes and tugged at her outfit. She’d objected to the white smock he’d ordered her to wear, and since she’d changed, she’d been non-stop with the complaints about the fabric, the fit, the... everything. Clara Oswald was clever, good-in-a-pinch, and up for adventure, but she was never quiet.

Sometimes he missed Rory the Roman, if only because that young man had known when to keep his mouth shut. Of course, Pond had usually taken up the conversational slack. His hearts ached with a familiar pain, one he’d born so many times across his lives. Loss. Loss of friend, family, loved ones. Loss of his home, his way, and even sometimes, his hope. Loss was as familiar to him as any companion. He’d born it, not always with grace or dignity, but he’d held up and moved on. What choice had he had?

But this one loss had haunted him, refusing to soften with time. Even now, centuries later, River’s death grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. Some moments the loneliness, the ghosts and shadows pressed in and he wished his people hadn’t given him a new lease on life. Because, really, what was the point? What was life when you were alone? Empty. Endless. Without reason.

Despite his latest friend and the distraction of their adventures, he knew Clara would leave him soon. She already had one foot out the door. That was fine, really.   None of his companions were meant to be permanent.

Only River had traveled the stars with him as an equal. Everyone else were in-and-out friends, dear and amazing, but not equal. River Song had been different. She’d been created to kill him, which she had done quite well, but then, she’d turned around and saved him. Mixed messages as first dates went, but it had set the pace for their mutually fascinating and challenging love story. Anything else would have been boring. He didn’t do boring. He skipped those bits as he did Sundays and the tedium of waiting around for things to happen. When one lived for untold centuries, it required more than quiet days and peace. Days of sunshine and flowers would blur together in a haze as soft as a cushion. But if you had adventures, interesting shenanigans, running and rescues, saving the day and all that, well, times like those stuck with you. They gave you a reason to go on, to stay sharp. River had instinctively understood that even when she’d been as young as the Doctor’s current friend.

A bobbing head of pure ginger caught his eye and, unable to resist, the Doctor slowed so as not to pass her. Donna Noble was following Mr. Lux as they fought their way through the crowd to go to the planet’s core to find the younger version of the Doctor. When he focused he caught threads of their conversation.

“No, I said you should brace yourself because the Doctor was going to hook himself up to the computer so there would be enough memory space to transfer everyone out. Doctor Song said it would probably burn out his hearts, but he didn't see any other choice.” Luxy-boy sounded excited and nervous.

“Mr. Smith!” Clara snapped as if it weren’t the first time she’d called his pretend name. “Where are we going? What’s the hurry? Who are all these people? Why are they evacuating? Are we in danger here? What have you got me into this time?”

“How do you even do that?   You didn’t stop to pause for breath. Are you sure you’re human? It shouldn’t be possible.” Dragging the portable med-stretcher along, he detoured away from the path Mr. Lux and Donna were following to take a different route. He’d memorized the schematics and knew of a short-cut that would get him there in a fraction of the time. The Vashta Nerada had given them time to clear out and he would use the freedom to do just that. Eventually. After he’d put his plan into action.

Clara followed still barking questions at him. She did pause for a heartbeat when he activated the gravity platform but then she thought of a new gamut of inquiry. “What’s that? Where’s it lead? Is it dangerous?”

“Gravity platform and no.” He grabbed her elbow and dragged her aboard.

“Ow! Wait, where does it lead?”

He pointed. “Down.” He wasn’t trying to be laconic but he was mere seconds away from reaching the place he’d walked so many times in the corridor of his memories.

“What’s down there?” Clara demanded, looking suspicious and peevish, and perhaps a wee bit excited. His impossible girl could sometimes be impossible.

“The heart of this place.” His heart, the only one that he hadn’t kept safe, unlike the ones thundering in his chest. Ten seconds. He would reach his destination and... her.

“What does that mean?”

Six seconds. “You’ll see.”

Clara crossed her arms across her chest and looked properly skeptical. “Did you lie to me? Is it dangerous?”

Three seconds. “Yes, and no.” His obscure answer didn’t appease her, but then, he’d lied before. Rule number one, the Doctor lies. Always.

The platform came to a slow halt.  Two seconds. He stepped off, hardly daring to breathe.

Clara’s brow was furrowed as she studied him; perhaps she’d finally caught on to his trepidation. When he didn’t speak, she looked around. “This is it?”

“No, this way.” He dragged the stretcher and his feet took him to where he needed to go. His head was too full of the ifs, ands, buts of this moment. All the possibilities crowding in until he was half-blind to the now. Then he turned a corner and stopped dead.  Time was up.

River. His River, wife-extraordinaire.  Used up. Her lifeless body wired to the computer, no more than a burned out memory buffer now. The golden light of the Data Core above them bathed the scene in hideous radiance. And Pretty Boy was sitting, leant up against a pillar, handcuffed to a pipe like the useless, feckless creature he was.

It was as bad as he’d remembered, but he’d mourned for centuries and he’d come here to fix this, not to weep.

Ignoring his younger self, the Doctor strode past him. His every thought and concern was centered upon her, his wife, still warm but without the spark that had been the most important thing in his universe. “Free him.”

“How?” Clara asked. She was staring at River as if she’d seen a ghost, and wide-eyed horror was sweeping over her face. “Oh. My. God!”

His younger self roused himself to answer. “The screwdrivers. Give me one of them.” He pointed in case Clara hadn’t a clue what he was talking about.

Of course Clara did know and, comprehending, she hustled over to scoop up the pile River had left so tantalizingly close—yet too far—upon the floor. Clara seemed to be having difficulty looking away from River, but, picking up his old sonic, she pointed and thought without prompting and the handcuffs opened at both ends, freeing the other Doctor.

“Thanks, how did you do that?” The young Doctor took the book and screwdrivers away from Clara and moved past her, massaging his aching wrist. “Never mind. Here let me help.” He shoved the med-stretcher aside and helped the older Doctor unhook River Song from CAL. “Anything? Is there any sign of life?”

“No, of course not, you idiot. Did you think there would be? She burned herself up. No human could survive being part of the mainframe circuit without the fail-safe’s Lux put into the system to protect Charlotte.” The Doctor resented his younger self’s hope, but he remembered it too. The useless spark of wishful thinking despite the certainty that River had gone. Back then he hadn’t paid much attention to the med-techs who’d arrived to take River’s corpse away. It’d just been a generically grumpy old man and a bright-eyed girl. He’d been too buried in guilt and other conflicting emotions to bother with them.

Even before their marriage the Doctor had felt a connection to River. That was part of the reason he’d resisted her so vehemently when they’d first met. Once a Time Lord bonded telepathically with their mate that joining echoed across all their regenerations throughout time, like ripples on a pool. It was the main reason his race had been so very cautious when it came to marriage. His earth marriages like with Liz the First, Marilyn, and even sweet Scarlette hadn’t been real—not to him. They’d been little more than a faradiddle to pacify some incredibly persistent human females.

He’d only truly been married twice in his life, but just once as the Doctor. In his first incarnation as the Other he had married a woman snatched from the heart of the Medusa Cascade straight out of another dimension. They’d had thirteen children and numerous grandchildren, but he hadn’t remembered her after his rebirth. When he’d become the Doctor, oh so many millennia ago that relationship had been one of the sacrifices of being reloomed. Only fragmented recollections and his beloved granddaughter, Susan, had remained. Susan, whose true name in High Gallifreyan, _Arkytior,_ meant Rose. She hadn’t resembled her blonde and saucy grandmother, but the Other’s marriage to Rose Tyler had been one of the reasons the Doctor had fallen for his long-ago companion when he’d met her in his ninth incarnation, old big-ears. Despite the separation of time, regeneration, and dimensions, he’d recognized a part of his past life with her.

Since he’d started his new regeneration cycle he’d relentlessly researched that ancient history—his story. He hadn’t let adventures, rescues, or friends distract him too much as he’d done in past regenerations. This newest him liked burying himself in books. His library had seen more use in this self than in almost all the others combined. Susan’s Gallifreyan name had started him down that path along with a morbid curiosity about his former great-grandson, Alexander, Susan and David Campbell’s only biological child. It shouldn’t have been possible for a Time Lord to conceive with a human. Their genetics were too different. Exposure to the time vortex guaranteed that, and yet... Alex _had_ been born. How?

He’d scoured his library, reading everything on Gallifreyan history, the dark times, and mostly about the Other. It’d taken him time to piece together the puzzle, but now he had no doubt that he’d had a sort-of life with Rose Tyler. A stolen, unwilling life since, to Rose, the Other had not been the Doctor. The Other was centuries and lifetimes before the Doctor, but because the mind of a Time Lord was a peculiar and powerful thing, the love his ninth self had felt had echoed back and rooted itself a different regeneration’s—a different being’s—heart.  Or vice versa, it was one of those chicken-or-the-egg arguments, and as such it didn’t matter.

Poor Rose, to lose her human meta-crisis Doctor, John Smith, to be kidnapped, and forced to become the wife of one of the founders of Time Lord Society. How she would’ve hated the politics, the pressure, and the pomp. She’d even been given a new name, Patience, and exposed to the time vortex until her genetics had mutated, giving her enough Time Lord characteristics to regenerate. Part of him hoped she’d given them real and proper hell before she’d met her final end. Maybe she was the main reason his former self had rebelled against Rassilon’s rule. Perhaps she was even the reason the Other had thrown himself into the Loom to await his rebirth into a new being, the Doctor. It’d been destined.

“How do you know this? You’ve barely examined her?” the young Doctor’s agitated questions brought him back to the moment as his former self tried to grab hold of his arm, but the Doctor dodged.

There would be no touching because a Time Lord couldn’t hide one regeneration from another. Not at close quarters.

Clara inserted herself now that she’d rallied from her shock. She gave her Doctor a meaningful glance—one that demanded answers and hinted that she wasn’t going to stop until she got what she wanted—and lied. “We were told what to expect when we arrived.”

The Doctor gruffly cleared his throat and embellished upon the fib. “Mr. Lux sent for help to evacuate the rescued people. He thought you would be the one strapped in the chair, but... Doctor Song explained the risks when they went upstairs to prime the data cells. Anyone who served as additional memory space to the mainframe wouldn’t have a chance. We knew there would be a casualty here.” He’d had trouble getting out River’s name because he was standing over her dead body. The pain was incredible. His mind kept reaching out for hers, expecting a response to his touch-telepathy but it found only an empty shell. Her heart was dead and her life was finished. He locked his jaw to keep from raging aloud over his loss.

Donna Noble and Mr. Lux came in, both of them exclaiming over Doctor Song’s dead body and the Doctor’s live one. While his younger self filled them in on everything that’d happened, including River taking his place, the Doctor finished strapping River into the gurney. The med-tech built into the bed went to work under his direction. It would preserve her remaining brain function and got started on repairing River’s the damage inflicted by the data core. If his plan was to work he hadn’t a moment to lose.

“Doctor, what exactly are we doing here?” Clara asked. At least she had the sense to keep her voice down. “Is this when...? Is this how your wife died? Here? In the Library?”

“Yes.” No lies now. He hadn’t the attention to spare for it. His entire being was focused upon the husk of his lover that lay cooling before him.

“I am sorry.” The pity in Clara’s voice merited one glance up to meet her gaze, but that was all he could do. His little friend understood this kind of grief, this kind of hurt because she’d suffered just as much. “So sorry, but what can we do? Why are we here? You wouldn’t torture yourself without good reason.”

Mr. Lux bustled over, full of himself and a justifiable jubilation at the thousands of people he’d helped rescue. “You two can manage here, can’t you? I want Doctor Song’s body to be treated with the respect it deserves. She’ll get a proper funeral as soon as can be arranged. I owe her that much.”

“And more,” both Doctors said in unison.

He didn’t look around, but the Doctor felt Clara glancing back and forth between him and his younger self. “We’re on the job,” his current companion assured Mr. Lux. “Toddle off. We’ve got this well in hand.”

Donna took hold of the younger Doctor’s arm to tug him away. “There’s nothing more you can do here. Come away, Doctor.”

His younger self left with little more than one last fulminating glance at River.  It wouldn't be  much longer before that Doctor would seek River out for their picnic at Asgard--his paltry first attempt at repayment of River's sacrifice.  The fool.  He'd not  realized in that incarnation how precious each moment with River had been, so each of his earliest visits had been little more than for show.  He'd wallowed in guilt and remorse until he'd all-but locked her out of his hearts.  It had taken regeneration and centuries before he'd given in to the inevitable. 

When they were alone again, Clara cleared her throat. “Quite the looker, your younger self. Great hair.”

The med-stretcher beeped. The damage to River’s heart was irreversible by the limited medical technology of the 52nd century. It was as bad as the Doctor had feared.

“What?” Clara leaned in to read the screen. “Irreversible damage? What’s it talking about? What’re you trying to do? Were you trying to bring her body back? Would that have helped?”

“Time for Plan B then.” He looked at Clara. “I need your help.”

“How? What can I do?” Clara’s face indicated she was ready. She wouldn’t hold back or slow him down with useless questions. She would help him because she knew how important this was to him. It touched on his wife and since Clara had fallen in love with Danny Pink she’d grown beyond the young woman who’d looked at the Doctor as a hobby. She had suffered a loss as great and deep as his and she too had been willing to bend the rules to rescue her beloved. So, as he’d tried to help her after she’d reached her darkest day, her blackest hour, so she would help him now. Hopefully, this time, things would work out better.

“I can bring her body back, but bringing back her mind is another thing entirely. For that I need you. I need your mind and your psychic link to her.”

Clara’s eyes widened, seeming to fill her face as they sometimes did. “But it isn’t still active. I haven’t seen her in ages.”

“That’s because she’s retreated back into the mainframe. She _let_ herself fade, but she’s in there, Clara, and I need you to bring her back.”

She didn’t utter the cry of “Why me?” Instead, she squared her slender shoulders and lifted her chin. “Let’s do it.”

He clapped his hands. “Right. Into the chair with you then.”

For a heartbeat she balked. “That chair.” She pointed at it as if it were a viper about to strike. “The chair where she just died. You want me in that chair.”

“You’re in no danger from the chair.” The burr in his voice was as thick as syrup without a trace of sweetness. “I need you there so I can interface your consciousness with the computer. You canna find and fetch River from the mainframe if you don’t go in after her.”

“Right.” Clara pasted on a jaunty grin and took a running leap into the seat. She squirmed around making herself comfortable whilst he hooked her head up with the same leads River had rigged  for her own connection.

It sickened him, what he was doing. He was willingly risking his friend, his impossible girl, when he should’ve been the one to go in. “While you’re inside I am going to revive her body. Otherwise I wouldn’t ask this of you.”

“Revive her how?” Clara’s curiosity reared its head as it sometimes did at inopportune times.

“Later. There’s no time to waste. The longer the two versions of the same TARDIS are in proximity to one another, the greater the risk that they will merge and the entire universe will explode. Two TARDISes, two times, fighting to occupy the same space, it’s a massive paradox just waiting to happen. We have less than five minutes.” If only he had the Moment here to suspend those rules, then he could find another way to keep Clara safe and still manage to rescue River. He went scurrying over to the controls and began setting it to plunge Clara into the system.

“Five minutes!” Clara’s voice rose an octave. “Then chop, chop! Get a move on. Off we pop.”

He met her eyes. “Good luck.” When what he wanted to say was to beg her to bring his wife back to him—to do anything, to risk everything.  Whatever it took to rescue River. Odd that he should feel the same desperation that Clara had felt after Danny Pink’s death. It was a completion of the circle, her loss and his. Two sides of the same coin.

“Be back with your missus in a few ticks.” Her cheery smile faded when he threw the switch, sending her into CAL’s world.

Knowing he hadn’t moment to waste the Doctor turned back to his wife’s body. His fingers almost itched with the desire to get tangled in her curly hair. Instead he drew upon the depths of shimmering regeneration energy packed down in his core. Within seconds his hands began to glow, brighter and brighter as he held tight, not letting a particle of it float free in case it alerted his younger self. When the intensity had blossomed into a corona that stung his eyes, the Doctor laid one dazzling hand upon River’s forehead and the other over her silent heart. “Remember when I healed your wrist this way, my dear? You slapped me if you recall. Told me I was wasting my regeneration energy. But back then you knew I was on my last life and that reserve of energy was all I had to sustain my body beyond its tiny lifespan.” He leaned down to whisper above her lips. “If I have to take another slap for bringing you back... it’s a price I’ll gladly pay.”

Her silence was a goad and he poured more energy into her as he brushed his lips over hers.

“It isn’t a waste though.” The words were unmuffled by the energy pouring from him. “Not this time. Not just because I have to heal your body so you can come back, but because of everything the Time Lords poured into me. It wasn’t just a single regeneration cycle, River. No, it’s rather a lot more than that from what I can tell. I might not ever stop regenerating. Perhaps the powers that be decided not to take a chance on me dying before I brought them back. I doubt they did it from any sense of altruism. If the Time Lords are to be rescued then I’m their only hope. They hedged their bets.”

She lay there, dead and still, but he could feel his regeneration energy healing her damaged cells. He could feel her body recovering, but it wouldn’t do any good. There was no spark of life, just a healing shell. She wouldn’t be finished until _she_ was back and for that he had to wait until Clara did her part. If he were human he might’ve crossed his fingers.

 

***

 

Clara blinked her eyes closed on the sub-level of the Library and opened her eyes on a green lawn in front of what might’ve been a university or hospital. A nearby sign read 'CAL'.  “Hello? Hello, is anybody here?”

“Who are you and how did you get here?”

When she spun around, it was to confront a pretty little girl who appeared to be nine or ten years old, with long dark hair and eyes brimming with curiosity. Clara wasn’t sure how time passed here, in this pretend universe but she thought she should hurry. “Sorry, I’m looking for River Song. The Doctor sent me. Do you know where she is?”

The little girl smiled and cocked her head. “Of course I do. She came in recently, like the others.  Would you like me to take you to her?”

“Please.” Clara held out her hand, and the girl stepped toward her. The instant their fingers touched, their surroundings changed. One moment they were out of doors standing in the warm sunshine listening to birdsong, and the next they were on the stoop in front of a blue door and it was in the middle of the night. The walls of the house rose above them, ivy-covered and pale in the moonlight. The music of night-crickets was a soft melody playing in the background like an accompaniment waiting to usher in the soloist.

The little girl politely knocked on the door. “I’m Charlotte.” It was said as an aside, as if she was shy or as if she thought the information was too obvious.

“Clara,” she completed the introduction and was near to jiggling with impatience. Her gaze darted around, noting the low stone wall hedging a garden round and the nearby shed that appeared to have been sat upon by an elephant, and back to the solemn child at her side. “Are you sure Dr. Song’s here? No, of course you’re sure. You brought us here. How did you do that, by the way?”

Before the little girl could explain, if she’d been about to do such a thing, the door opened allowing the light of the hallway to flood out over them. River Song was silhouetted against it, recognizable by her mad hair and curvy figure. “Charlotte and...” there was a pregnant pause so that when Dr. Song continued, it was in tones of real surprise, “and Clara, the Doctor’s current traveling companion. What are you doing here?”

“First off, I prefer the term associate, friend, compatriot, or the like. I object to the term companion. It implies... well, companion-y behavior and there’s nothing of that sort going on.” Clara stepped into the house by brushing past River without waiting for an invitation. “I’ve come to bring you back.”

“What?” River drew Charlotte in and shut the door behind them. “What do you mean? Bring me back to what?” The older woman ushered them through to a cozy living space. A side-table near the settee held a diary, a cup of tea, and a knot of photos of the same four people—a pretty redhead, a youngish bloke with a large nose, River, and the last Doctor, big chin and all.

On the wall over the fireplace was a larger collection of twelve photos, each one with River Song and a different regeneration of the Doctor. Clara recognized all of the Doctors from the fuzzy memories she’d recovered of her past lives, though the War Doctor was noticeably absent. At the bottom of the queue was a photo of the current Doctor and River wearing fancy dress, almost like wedding apparel. Two before that was one of the young Doctor Clara had released from handcuffs a mere minute or so ago. The couple, in that one, were picnicking near an ancient castle with a rainbow bridge where they’d parked the TARDIS.

Clara couldn’t help but goggle at some of the old Doctor’s faces and fashion sense. She’d forgotten how some had made the fez seem conservative. I mean, really, who wore celery as an accessory or chose a jumper covered in question marks? The leather jacket wasn’t bad, but the ears on that one! Wow.

A couple of the photos seemed to suggest the Doctor and River hadn’t always gotten on well together. The couple were arguing in the second photo with River threatening the man by brandishing what appeared to be a recorder. In the sixth photo, River was rolling her eyes behind the back of a pompous looking clown in an overly colorful jacket.  By contrast, Dr. Song seemed very happy cuddled up with the third Doctor and she was dancing cheek-to-cheek with the eighth, but her smile was the most radiant in the eleventh with chinny boy. Odd that the sight of her old friend with his wife should prompt a faint feeling of jealousy in Clara.

“Clara, I asked you a question. What are you bringing me back to?” River might well have been tapping her foot with impatience. The tone hinted at the possibility that Dr. Song had been a teacher once upon a time. It carried that sort-of severity.

“To your body. To your life. To the Doctor.” Clara turned, worry speeding her words and leaching out to infect her muscles. She shifted from foot to foot and wrung her hands. She _never_ wrung her hands, she wasn’t the sort. It had to be this place. It was freaky, that was all. “Look, there isn’t much time. The Doctor is waiting. We have to hurry or paradoxes, universe-ending catastrophes and things of that nature will occur.”

River’s clever eyes were dissecting Clara as if she were a particularly thorny problem. “I see.” But she must not have because Doctor Song didn’t jump into action, in the air from excitement, or twitch so much as an eyelash.

Charlotte slipped her hand into River’s and leant against her like a frightened child. “Already? But it’s so soon.”

“So soon?” Clara goggled at them both. This wasn’t going the way she thought it would’ve... should’ve gone. “It’s been centuries from what I gather.”

The little girl and Doctor Song both seemed startled, but not overly perturbed, by the news. “Perhaps from his point of view, but I’ve scarcely been uploaded by Charlotte from my suit's neural relay. Besides, my husband is in an awful hurry for someone who has waited centuries to come check me out of the Library.” River’s expression was wry and mocking at the same time.

“Look, this isn’t a game.” Clara’s voice sharpened because she’d expected River to seize on the chance to reunite with her husband. It’s what Clara would’ve done in a heartbeat after Danny had been killed. “Losing someone you love... it hollows you out, steals your will to live... it breaks you apart and leaves nothing behind. Believe me, I know. The Doctor has tried to go on, to let you rest in peace, but he’s suffered, and I won’t allow you dismiss that.” She almost started shaking. “He’s taking an awful risk to try to bring you back and the least you can do is help him. If you don’t want to return then you’re going to have to tell him yourself. I’m not going to be your messenger. Do your own dirty work.” Clara hadn’t cared for the Doctor’s wife from the first time they’d met, and it’d been mutual. That facet of their relationship hadn’t changed much.

Smiling as if she was somehow satisfied with ruffling Clara up, River turned to and knelt in front of the little girl. “Charlotte, love, you know this is what I was hoping for. You know I need to be with my husband, though he is a bit of an idiot. He's found a way to bring me back, and I can't bear to lose him forever.  This might be my only chance.”

Charlotte wiped at her eyes and sniffled pitifully. “I know, and I like the Doctor, but I’m going to miss you and the fun we could've had. You promised to read me my bedtime stories.  Who will do it if you leave?”

River laughed fondly and produced a handkerchief to dry the girl’s tears. “Oh, I expect Anita or proper Dave will be happy to fill in for me. And, I tell you what, I’ll leave a copy of my diary with you. That’s the next best thing to having me and the Doctor here. You can play along with us in our adventures.”

The girl brightened immediately at the unexpected treat. “You mean it? But you said you didn't want your diary to become a real part of the Library.” Her slender arms stayed locked around River’s neck while she rocked on her toes.

“And so it won’t be, but I will allow my dear, sweet girl to have her own personal copy.” River tapped the child’s nose in a fond way before pulling her in for a prolonged hug. “Thank you for saving me. No matter what happens, you’ve given the Doctor time to help me.”

“Have loads of adventures, won’t you, and write to me sometimes.” It was the resigned plea of loneliness now. Charlotte knew there was no way to keep River from leaving.

“Perhaps we’ll build a new diary so your adventures with the Doctor and me will never have to end.” River cupped the girl’s cheek and stared into Charlotte’s eyes for a long minute before she hopped up. “Well what are we waiting for? What do we do?”

Clara froze. “I dunno.” Her heart fluttered with what might’ve been panic. “The Doctor just told me to fetch you. He didn’t say how I was supposed to bring you out.”

River heaved a sigh and shook her head. “That man. He never has a plan.”

“He usually does.” The words were out before Clara could stop herself, but honesty had her amending the statement. “Well, most of the time.” River raised a skeptical brow and Clara finally mumbled, “All right, he wing’s it, but it works for him.”

“Yes, because he usually is surrounded by clever or brave people.” River looked to Charlotte. “Can you lend a hand in getting me out?”

Charlotte nodded. “Yes, but it’ll be just as I told you it would be. He’ll be the only one to see you because of your telepathic bond. You won’t really be there except holographically. Just a projection of the real you, the you I uploaded from the wi-fi when I realized you were about to serve as a memory buffer.”

“It’ll have to do then, won’t it?” River threw Clara a smile, but without all the warmth she’d shown the little girl. “After you, dear.”

Clara looked around. “How do I... go back, I mean?” It was embarrassing that she hadn’t even thought to ask the Doctor about that. There hadn’t really been much time, truth be told. A blush started climbing her neck but she fought it down.

River came near to snorting with derision. It was insufferable. “The door would be a good start.”

In a high dudgeon Clara stomped past, “See if I help fetch you again!” and flung open the front door. As she crossed the threshold she blinked.

One instant she was storming out of River’s cottage into the night and the next she was staring over at the Doctor, and ewwww... he was kissing his wife’s dead body. She cleared her throat to let him know she was back. “Yes, well, here I am. All back now.” Just in case, she averted her eyes and concentrated on removing the crown-thing the Doctor had used to hook her up. “Yep, just me and my lonesome.”

“Not quite,” purred an annoyingly-familiar voice. Clara looked back towards the Doctor and found River standing beside him, a huge smile on her luminous face. “If you’re done kissing my body, dear, we could see about getting this me back where I belong.”

The Doctor straightened in a shot and whirled, his eyes shimmering regeneration-gold like his hands. He beamed at his wife, though it shouldn’t have been possible with those ferocious eyebrows. “River!”

“Sweetie,” and River leaned in to lay one on the old man.

Dr. Song had changed from the dressing gown and pajamas she’d been wearing at her cottage into something white and shimmery. She actually looked rather pretty, though Clara wouldn’t have complimented the woman for the world. “But I can see you too!” She gave them a mo, but after almost thirty seconds had passed, she spoke up. “Hullo! We’re on a time limit here. Universe-ending catastrophes and other dire things if we don’t get a move on. Ring a bell?”

“Right. Kissing later then.” River smiled and traced the Doctor’s cheek with one scarlet-tipped nail. “And of course you can see me, Clara, dear.” River’s patronizing tone indicated that should’ve been obvious to anyone of the least intelligence. “We’re mentally linked so I followed you out.”

“Right.” Clara kept her voice crisp as she climbed from the chair. “What now?” She addressed the Doctor hoping that if she tried hard enough she could make River Song invisible, or at the least, ignorable.

“River, you need to restore your link to your body.” He couldn’t seem to stop touching his wife, either version, to Clara’s bemusement.

Dr. Song blinked at the Doctor while she thought through what he was asking of her. “You know how difficult that is. I can’t simply lie down and melt into my flesh-body.” Her tone had shifted from caressing endearment, to lump him in with his unintelligent, dolt of an assistant. “Be realistic!”

“I am!” The Doctor spoke in a rush, his Scottish burr breaking free again. “If anyone can do this, it’s you, and I’m going to help you, as will Clara.”

“What? Me?” Clara put her hands on her hips and glowered at him. “I did what you asked. What else do you want?”

“Clara!” he gestured her to come nearer with his weirdly glowing hands. “You have a telepathic link with River. All I want is to transfer that link from you to her former body. It will guide River back to herself, like a homing beacon.”

“Interesting,” River mused. She sounded equal parts intrigued and impressed.

Clara wasn’t as keen. “You can see her too. Why not use your link to her?”

Dr. Song answered though the question had been addressed to the Doctor. “Because our link isn’t just a telepathic bond. We’re married, body and soul. If we used his bond to me, I might just end up in the Doctor’s body instead of mine!” River smirked. “And as often and as _much_ as I enjoy my husband’s body, I think I’d be more comfortable in my own.”

The Doctor coughed, looking pleased and a trifle uncomfortable. “Yes, but as I was saying, time is of the essence. Come here, Clara.”

“You weren’t saying time is of the essence. You were busy snogging your missus. I was the one reminding you of the impending catastrophe.” But she edged forward nearer to the couple. When the Doctor reached out towards her, she shied back. “Lose the glowy bits first. I’ve spend enough time tied up with your regenerations, Doctor. I’d rather not have another go.”

“Oh, quite right.” He shook that hand as if flicking off something sticky and the shimmer faded. When Clara came close enough for him to touch one hand to her head he glanced at his wife. “River, lay down on your body. We haven’t much time.  The other me will be here soon to upload his copy of your consciousness from your screwdriver.”

Clara laughed.  "Oh, then that means Charlotte will have her River after all.  That's good, like a back-up for the mainframe."

River took hold of his still-glowing free hand and allowed him to help her onto the cot. Her lower extremities melted ghost-like into her flesh without a shimmer, except where the Doctor’s regeneration energy reflected off her space suit. She lay back, smiling at her man as if they were already planning their next adventure.

Clara felt the light touch of the Doctor’s mind sweeping through her thoughts, searching back until he happened upon the memory of the ‘conference call’ Madame Vastra had initiated.

“Ah, there it is. Just the thought I needed.” While still in contact with Clara’s head, he touched River’s forehead.

Clara tried not to focus on the double-image of River Song’s body and her memory-self merging and separating as the not-dead River shifted to see them. It was... weird. She felt something pull free of her mind. It was as if the Doctor was pulling out the thought, rather like Dumbledore extracting a memory for a Pensieve. Her memory of the meeting with the Paternoster gang lost its clarity, becoming hazier and less memorable. Almost as a dream lost its focus upon waking.

The ghost-River laughed. “Is that what you thought of me, Clara? How marvelous!”

“Follow it, River, before it fades!” The Doctor’s urgent tone was laced with his hope, his worry, and perhaps, most embarrassingly—at least for Clara—with his love.

“Not to worry, sweetie!” But River’s voice grew softer, and her ghostly body faded from view.

“Doctor!” Clara yelped. If this didn’t work, then what?!  Would they have to wait for a better download to try again.  She really didn't want to go back into that pretend world again.  But she knew in her heart of hearts that she would for her friend's sake, if not for Doctor Song's.  The woman had sacrificed herself for the Doctor and all of the people upstairs.  That kind of bravery deserved to be rewarded, maybe the more-so because it reminded her of Danny.

“Wait for it!” But the Doctor pulled his hand away from Clara to lay both upon River’s temples.

One second became five, became ten.

And just when Clara was about to score her palms with her fingernails, her fists were clenched so tightly, River Song breathed in a great gasp of air.

The Doctor’s hand erupted with a more vigorous glow that poured out, sweeping into his wife and her struggling form. “Easy. Easy, River. Remember your body. It’s been a while, and no time at all, but you know this self. Stretch your mind out and remember. You are River Song, Melody Pond, the daughter of the Girl who waited and her Roman centurion.”

Though her voice was hoarse when she spoke, it was definitely River Song. “Don’t forget... I’m also the woman who married you.”

“How could I forget that after all the weddings we’ve had?” The Doctor cleared his throat. His voice had been almost as gruff as River’s, but with emotion, not damage.

“Doctor,” and Clara checked her watch. “We’ve got to go or we’re not going to make it back to the Tardis in time.”

“Right!” He leaned over his wife and smoothed her hair with a tenderness that was so at odds with his gruff exterior. “Lie there and look dead, wife.”

“I feel dead,” but she laughed weakly.

“We’ll soon put that to rights.” The Doctor tapped a few buttons on the side of the medical gurney and a shield popped into life, glowing blue in a force-field that arced over River, shielding her body from close scrutiny. “Come on.” He grabbed one end of the cart and took off the way they’d come in.

Clara hustled after him, daring one glance back. It might’ve been her imagination, but she thought she heard a little girl’s voice calling after them, “Goodbye, River. Goodbye, Doctor!” It gave her the heebie-jeebies and she hustled after the Doctor’s retreating figure.

 

***

 

The Doctor shoved the gurney into the TARDIS as soon as Clara had unlocked and opened the doors. “Get us out of here, old girl!” he called to his beloved ship. The time rotor began to chug and the wheeze of the engines were as music to the ear.

Clara glanced around. “Does it seem brighter in here to you?”

The Doctor smiled and disengaged the shield over River to check his wife again. Her medical stats were good, better than good, really, since she should be dead. “Everything seems brighter.”

River reclined upon his arm when he helped her to sit up. She laughed again, her old, fond laugh that was as good as an ‘I love you’ for him. “It’s good to be home. Hello, mother, dear. Did you miss me?”

The lights in the room began to flash in colors that crossed and expanded beyond every spectrum. The TARDIS was laughing with them.

Glancing around in surprise and maybe with a trace of disgruntlement, Clara frowned. “What’s up with her?”

“River is the child of the TARDIS. She wanted her daughter back as badly as I wanted my wife. She’s celebrating.” When he met her eyes, privately, he spoke into her mind. “ _As soon as we drop Clara off, we’ll find somewhere quiet to be alone... so you can recover_.”

“ _Or for our own celebrating.”_ She winked at him with her reply, and if her eyes weren’t twinkling with the devilry he remembered, her smile was just as maddening and sexy.

“Wait, I thought you said River’s parents were a centurion and a girl who waited.” Clara looked at River. “He also called you Melody Pond. Back on Trenzalore when his mind was wandering he thought I was someone called Amelia Pond. Are you two related?”

“No, no, I didn’t think you were Amelia. I thought I saw Amelia. I was remembering my beginning with that face, and Amelia was the first person I saw with those eyes. It was fitting that she be one of the last as well.” The Doctor helped River off the bed and over to a chair near the console. “I didn’t see River because we’d already had our farewell.”

“Amy was my mother and his best friend. She and my father, Rory, traveled with him for a time.” River waved him off with the telepathic message, “ _Hurry this along, dear. We have a few centuries to make up for and it won’t do to have an audience.”_

The Doctor almost giggled, and this him _never_ giggled. He rarely even smiled, except in a sardonic sort of way. To hide his glee he hurried to the console and threw a few switches. The TARDIS, understanding he wasn’t paying close attention flipped two of them back to the previous settings, but she put a rush on things.

“Rory?” Clara mused over the name for a second before her eyes brightened. “Oh, the nose. He was the one with the nose. I thought I recognized him from the pictures you had at your cottage inside the Library.” She turned to the Doctor. “It was from one of those other lives of mine. The Nose and the Chin, that’s what I called the two of you. Well the old you.”

“Yes, the chin was rather memorable, wasn’t it?” River threw another doting glance at him. “Now it’s the eyebrows.”

He almost waggled them at her, but busied himself with the stabilizers instead. Because he was looking forward to the future, not in the now, he gave them a flick. It was something to do, to make him seem busy. The TARDIS corrected them while he listened to the two women in his life.

“So was the redhead your mum?”

“Yes, she was, and they conceived me on their honeymoon here in the time vortex. Thus, I was a child of the TARDIS because she had a hand in putting together my DNA.” River sounded wearier than she should’ve been considering the damage to her body had been healed before she’d rejoined it. But who really knew what effort it had taken to re-establish control of her corporeal self? It might’ve been exhausting.

In a few ticks, while he bounced back and forth between River’s side and the console, they flew back to London to drop Clara off.

The moment the TARDIS came to a stop, the Doctor was at Clara’s side to take her arm. “Here you are. Back at home an hour after we left it. Thanks for the help. Couldn’t have done it without you.” He began dragging her towards the exit.

“Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry.” Clara’s tone dripped with sarcasm but she let him hustle her along. “If you wanted to be alone with your wife, why didn’t you just say so?”

He stopped short at the doors and turned to face her. He leaned down until they were nose-to-nose. “Clara.”

“Yes?”

“I want to be alone with my wife.”

She smiled one of her confusing smiles—a mixture of happy, sad, and other stuff. It was impossible. She put her hand on his wrist and squeezed. “I am very happy for you, Doctor. Go, be with your wife. I’ll see you later.”

“Much later,” he said in all honesty.

“I know.” Rising on tiptoe, she pecked him on his cheek and slipped out.

Even without him asking the TARDIS sent itself back into the time vortex once the door closed.

River was smiling. “I would say I thought she’d never leave, but I’m grateful for what she did to help us. To help me.  I might just grow to like her now that I don't have to envy her traveling with you.”

He was slow in crossing the room. He was alone with his wife. Not younger versions of River Song, but with his wife, the one who had died, only now she was not. Even for a Time Lord, it was a novel experience, and to be savored. “Clara’s a good friend, and rather clever. She talks too much and is overly bossy, but she helped me get you back. That alone means everything.”

She reached her hands out to him. “I won’t know this is real until you prove it to me. For all I know, I could be dreaming in the Library. Part of me probably is by now.”  

It was for the best that a copy of her remained in the Library, though he hesitated to mention it.  If River wasn't in the Library's mainframe then how would she have been uploaded to Tasha Lem's mind when Tasha first became Mother Superious for the Church of the Papal Mainframe? The same Tasha Lem who would help him save Christmas and survive to someday rescue the rest of the Time Lords. His wife, she really knew how to get around. 

He pulled River gently to her feet once he’d taken hold of her, and drew her close. Staring down into her green eyes he dropped his facade to let his love and tenderness show. “Welcome home.” Leaning in, he captured her lips in a heartfelt kiss of redemption.

River hummed her approval and smoothed her hands up his lapels to twine her arms around his neck.

The Doctor locked his arms around her waist. Once he knew she couldn’t easily get away he let loose.

She only had an instant to gasp, an instinctive sound of shock, but he took full advantage. He poured regeneration energy into her, filling her up in much the same way as she’d done when she’d brought him back from her assassination with a kiss. There was one vital difference though, he knew what he was doing when she’d acted by little more than instinct. With an abandon that was almost reckless, he filled her body to the bursting point, where even one more drop would’ve forced her to spontaneously regenerate.   Then, and only then did he back off.

When he was done, he drew away, loosening his hold. River took that opportunity to haul off and sock him. Not a paltry slap, she knocked him back a full step. “What in the hell possessed you to do that? How dare you give me your regenerations! Do you think I want to outlive you?”

He gingerly wiped at the drop of blood welling from his split lip. The regeneration energy sifting back down to his core quietly healed it before the blood was even dry. “Well, I did say I would take the slap for healing you. I’m a man of my word.”

“Was it guilt? Did you think because I sacrificed myself for you in the Library that you owed me your lives? If you’ve turned into a sentimental idiot in this lifetime then I have nothing further to say to you.” River grew more angry as her rant continued. At least it brought color back to her cheeks and a sparkle into her eyes.

The Doctor closed the distance between them again and caught her hand when she slapped out at him a second time. “Temper, temper, my dear. We have rather a lot to say to each other, starting with this, I barely skimmed the top of the barrel. Look into me, River, see why I could give you a full regeneration cycle and not have it be the sacrifice you believe it to be.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, stretching out with her other senses and the faintest of tremors shivered over her skin. “Why? Why did they give you so much? You might never stop regenerating with that much inside of you. I don’t know why you aren’t bursting at the seams as it is. How are you controlling it?”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Well, as to that. Time Lord, bigger on the inside.” He pointed at his hearts, prompting a grin. “But the whys... I could say your guess is as good as mine.”

“But we both know that it’s likely the High Council of Gallifrey did it because you are the last. If they are to return, then it has to be through one of your mad ideas.” River softened against him and took hold of his lapels to keep him where she wanted him.   “They must’ve not thought what you could get up to with that much time at your disposal.”

“We and I’m not.”

River cocked a brow at him. “We? What not?”

Since her we was a question, not an answer, he explained in order to wipe away any doubts she might have. “We, as in we have that much time at our disposal. Or haven’t you noticed there’s something different about you now... besides the regeneration energy I gave back to you. Look inside yourself, wife. That should answer your second question as well.”

She let her eyes drift close, but they flew open on a strangled cry of amazement a second later.

Since she appeared to be speechless, a rare condition for River Song, he took full advantage. “Two hearts. You might not have come across that titbit of news in your research, dear, but womb-born Time Lords start out with only one heart. After regeneration they have two from then on as Loomed Time Lords do.”

“But I've regenerated before and I didn’t regenerate this time.” River reached up to touch her curls as if she wanted to be sure they were still there. “I’m still me. The same old me.”

“The same glorious you... on the outside, but on the inside, you’re so much more. Bigger on the inside now, like any full Time Lord because this time I was here to show you how to regenerate properly.” To tease her, he accompanied his boast with a smirk so he could enjoy how her eyes narrowed.  One of the things he loved about his wife was that red-headed temper of hers.  He took hold of her chin and bent his head to kiss her. “Welcome to your new species. That makes two of us, so I’m not the last. Though the Master raised his/her ugly head not too long ago, it wasn’t for long. Two Time Lords at any given moment seems the cosmos’ limit for now.” Perhaps he and his wife would find the time and the way to add to that total in a domestic sort-of fashion.

“The Master was a girl this time. How interesting. Did she try to seduce you?” River had gotten over her surprise and was all over joy. Nothing slowed River Song for long, not even death.

“Well, no. Though she did shower me with kisses and presents.” He frowned and scooped his wife up to carry her off.

“Presents of the poisonous kind, I’d bet.” River had done enough research to know the Master’s personality, whatever the form that particular Time Lord took. “Speaking of presents, since I’m the newest member of your species did you get me a gift? A Gallifreyan rovie, perhaps?” When he grimaced, she laughed. “No, thought not. You still haven’t forgiven your old rovie after it tried to take over the universe. Silly old Doctor. It was just a mouse.”

“Shayde and Erimem wouldn’t agree, but perhaps there’s something else you would prefer to have... something less dangerous perhaps.” He brightened. “Oh, as a relative time-tot perhaps I should give you a book of fairy tales on the Toclafane, or a Perigosto stick of your own.”

“Next you’re going to suggest I learn to play Spulchasm, but you know I hate Time Lord games, and the only fairy tale I want is the one where the handsome Doctor and his wife live excitingly ever after.” She laughed when he kicked open the door to their room. He hadn’t crossed this threshold in hundreds of years—ever since Darillium. This room had been theirs as man and wife, and he’d avoided it after he’d lost her. Now they could reclaim it together.

“Not happily ever after?” He asked softly into her curls because she’d turned her head to scan their space. She was home, and the TARDIS had set the lights to low while the walls sparkled with the light of the night sky over lost Gallifrey.

River looked round and released her most devastating weapon against him, her smile, the one that was guaranteed to curl the toes of anyone within a hundred paces, regardless of species. “What do you think?”

The Doctor swung her back onto her feet and released her hair from top-knot style pony tail she’d bound it up in. He wanted to fight her untameable hair as they wrestled together in their bed, though it often made for some awkward moments during lovemaking. It wasn’t the least romantic to spit out a mouthful of your wife’s hair, or accidentally put your elbow on the ends so it yanked on her scalp, and other mishaps of that sort. It was part of her though, and he adored each corkscrew curl.

She stood quiet while he let her hair down, though she did sigh in relief. Her helmet had made the ponytail a necessity, but River wouldn’t have liked it. She’d never meekly accepted any sort of binding. “Thank you.”

Since he wasn’t sure exactly why she was thanking him, he thought it best to clarify. “For what? If it was the hair, it is my pleasure, quite literally.”

She smiled. “No, not the hair.” Her eyes, he’d forgotten the power of her direct gaze, and the way she could express an emotion so big that it defied even telepathy. “For coming back. For not giving up. For saving me.”

“It was my turn.” His response was flippant, but at her silence, he went on in a much more serious tone. “I promised you I would come for you if you remember. Always. And besides...” He unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged out of it.

River smiled and followed suit by beginning to disrobe. Her attire was a bit more involved than his though. It ruffled her hair when she pulled off the suit’s helmet collar that attached to the upper-torso assembly, making it stand on end in a few spots. And there must’ve been half a dozen clamps or buckles under the collar to even make a start on finding River inside that get-up. It would take some time to win her free, probably longer than it'd taken to revive her back in the Library, but they had plenty at their disposal now.

He left off on his clothes and got to work on hers. He couldn’t make heads nor tails of most of it, but he made a good show of trying.  Besides, it gave him an excuse to touch her.  He needed to touch her, to reassure himself she was real, here, and his.

“And besides...?” prompted River.

“Oh.” He stopped to drag his mind back to what they’d been talking about. “I love you. I thought that went without saying.”

“You darling idiot, of course it doesn’t!” and she laughingly drew him into a kiss.

 

—

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my fix-it, of sorts. I tried to follow the rules of not too many TARDISes close together, while still allowing the Doctor to rescue River.  
> I know there are some gaping plot-holes, like how could River already be in the mainframe before the Tenth Doctor uploaded her. Then I thought about how Miss Evangelista was uploaded from the wi-fi, so I allowed for River doing the same. I could have waited, but what if Mr. Lux had carried off River's body! That would never do, and I couldn't see the Twelfth meekly allowing anyone else to handle his wife's remains.  
> I also chose to go this route so the two Doctors could interact a bit. (I miss Ten) I was going to have Twelve see Ten up in the Library Shop, but I don't think Ten would've left River's body behind, unattended either. Not when he knew they were married!  
> I also realize that Clara/River conflict is not entirely canon. There was a bit of friction--mostly from River--but I was simply playing a hypothetical 'if' about when two alpha females meet. Clara is more fun ruffled up, anyway, and River loves to be naughty!  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed at least some of it. Thanks for reading!! And don't worry about the meta-crisis Doctor losing Rose. Fixing that can be a tale for another day.


End file.
